


The Tale of the Warden

by wardencommandertabris



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Enby characters, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Love at First Sight, M/M, Multi, Pining, Platonic Soulmates, Racism, Revenge, Slow Burn Romance, Trans Characters, but there's only one HoF, familial death, i'm new to this don't judge me, idk i'll probably add more - Freeform, multi-warden fic, there's a lot going on in this fic ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21989149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wardencommandertabris/pseuds/wardencommandertabris
Summary: Ashiel Tabris has a legacy to live up to- her mother once protected the Alienage, and so must she. It's a fate she's dedicated herself to since the loss of her mother, but on the day of her wedding, it seems that fate itself has different plans for her.This is the tale of how a scrappy city elf overcomes her racism and becomes the Hero of Ferelden, featuring a ragtag group that's a bit larger than you find in Origins and Awakening. It'll follow her story up until the end of Awakening, and is the first in a three-part fic series that will span from Origins to Inquisition. Not all of these characters are mine: some, obviously, belong to Bioware, while others belong to my dearest friends, who will be credited as those characters appear. A multi-Warden fic with one hero and enough tragedy and angst for all of Thedas ten times over. I hope you enjoy it!
Relationships: Alistair/Tabris (Dragon Age), Amell/Cullen Rutherford, Nathaniel Howe/Velanna, These are just the main ships, Zevran Arainai/Female Mahariel, there's plenty more where this came from
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	The Tale of the Warden

**Author's Note:**

> What young person doesn't look forward to their wedding day? A day of warmth, laughter, and celebration- or so it would seem. But life is not always kind, and on what should be the first day of her new life, Ashiel Tabris becomes even more intimately familiar with this fact.
> 
> Content Warning: gore, violence, implied rape

“Cousin!”

The day had come- too bright, too early, too soon. Ashiel groaned and turned in her bed, burying her face in her pillow. Maybe, just maybe, if she ignored Shianni long enough- _“Couuuusin!”_ – and of course, it didn’t work. With a hand on her shoulder came a distinct aroma of alcohol and too-strong perfumes, and Ash’s ears pinned to her skull as Shianni began to shake her. “It’s time to get up!”

“You’ve been drinking,” Ash grumbled, not even lifting her head.

“Of course I’ve been drinking! It’s your big day! We’re celebrating!”

“You’re celebrating. I’m on the verge of puking.”

“Oh, come on, cousin.” The bed shifted under the other woman’s weight as she sat beside her sprawled form. “You’re getting married!”

“Hence the urge to vomit. Or maybe it’s the way you smell that’s turning my stomach.”

“Nope, gotta be the nerves. Come on, get up!”

It took another fifteen minutes of bargaining and prodding before Ashiel would finally drag herself from bed and submit herself to the gaggle of girls in the house that had followed Shianni to help her prepare for her wedding day. She was poked, pulled on, chattered at, and subjected to all manner of ridiculousness for the next _hour_ before, finally, the women of the alienage that had shown to dedicate themselves to the effort declared her to be ready.

Still sore from the group effort on her poor hair and feeling entirely out of her element in the dress they’d shoved her in, Ash ushered them out of her room, telling them, “Papa will want to see me. Go on! Go find Soris and bother him!” Giggling and shrieking, the women hurried away; it left Ashiel only a few moments to step over to the mirror and take in what they’d turned her into.

Her eyes were lined with kohl, dark hair pulled back into an intricate, tight braid around her shockingly delicate features. Shockingly, because Ashiel had never been called delicate once in her life. She’d inherited her mother’s fiery spirit, just as she had now inherited the long-gone woman’s wedding dress.

It fit her like a glove. She ran her fingers over the pale, off-white silk, tracing the golden accents and turning this way and that to watch how the skirt only just barely flared and flowed with the movements. They’d expected to have to adjust it and tailor it to her, but there was no need. It seemed she was Adaia’s daughter through and through, an echo of the fierce woman that had been well-known for fighting for those in the alienage that had nobody to fight for them.

It was Ash’s job, now. Or at least, it was, in her mind. It was why she got into so much trouble in the alienage, and why she never got along with the damned shems that liked to invade at their whims.

A knock at the door half-startled her, and reflexively, she fell into the beginnings of a defensive stance before-

“Can I come in?”

She immediately relaxed at the sound of her father’s voice. 

“Of course, Papa.”

Cyrion Tabris was an old man; nearing his sixties, in the alienage, he was considered one of a handful of elders. He’d been older than Adaia when they’d married, and many had believed losing her would lead to him dying of a broken heart. The truth of the matter was that he almost had; Ashiel remembered all too well how depression had gripped his aching heart and had nearly dragged him from her. If she’d not been there to force him to eat and continue on, he might have proved them right.

As he stepped in, a flurry of emotion raced over his lined features: shock, grief, sadness, and pride. Ashiel knew him too well for him to hide any of it from her, but in the end, his smile offset the distinct shine of tears in his eyes. 

“Oh, my sweet girl. Look at you. It seems just yesterday you were sneaking out of the alienage and coming home with sticky fingers and stolen bread.” A soft laugh escaped Ash. “You look just as your mother did on the day I married her. She would be… so, so proud of you, darling.”

“I hope so.” Ashiel sighed and turned back to the mirror- a moment later, she saw his reflection join hers as he laid a hand on her shoulder. 

“Nelaros is a good man.”

“So you’ve said.”

“And if he wishes to move to Highever-”

“Papa….”

“I’m only saying,” he amended quietly, “that you should not squander opportunity. We worked very hard for this match. I want the both of you to be happy. They treat us far better in Highever. The Teyrn and his family see to that.” His gaze slid from their reflection directly to her, and she peered up at him, curious. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Why do I feel like I’m not going to like this talk?”

“The… the dagger-play. Your fighting skills. I feel it may be best for you to, ah… not mention those.”

“Papa!” A frown twisted her lips, “I can’t go into a marriage lying about who I am, and that’s a part of me. A very important part. Mama taught me all of that!”

“And it made her look like a troublemaker.”

“She _was_ a troublemaker,” Ash countered, drawing a laugh from her father. “I’m not going to lie to Nelaros, Papa. If he can’t love me, trouble and all-”

“We both know this isn’t about love.”

“But you loved Mama.”

“I did. But that isn’t always the case when these things are arranged. I just don’t want this to- I don’t…”

“You think he’ll leave if he finds out,” she realized, and he nodded. “Then screw him, if he does.”

“Ashiel!” The admonishment had her ears falling flat. It was all too common for her to step out of line; while Cyrion understood, and she _knew_ he did, he worried. Her mother had died because she had stood up to corrupt guards who were cornering a man that couldn’t possibly stand a chance against them. While she had sent the guards running with their tails between their legs, Ashiel remembered all too well how more had come to drag her away.

She remembered sneaking out and bolting after them- and she remembered seeing her mother take a long drop and a short stop.

She had hated humans ever since. 

Cyrion worried. He didn’t want to lose Ashiel the way that he had lost Adaia. And so, instead of pressing it, the young elf sighed and drew her father into a hug. 

“I’ll keep it to myself, if it eases your mind. I’m sorry, Papa. You know how I can get.”

“I know.” The words were beginning to go tight, choked by the emotion in his throat. “I just want you safe and happy. You know you’re the light of my life.”

“And you are mine.”

* * *

The alienage was bustling with energy. Today was a double wedding- her own, and her cousin, Soris’- and it was more than enough cause to celebrate. They didn’t have that very often. They weren’t allowed to have that. Their lives were meant to be misery and grief and pain.

That was all filthy knife-ears deserved, according to the shems.

Still, this was home, and right now, it felt alive. The cheers and revelry stood in harsh juxtaposition to the run-down, ramshackle buildings that were crowded far too close together. The Vhenedahl, their ancient tree, stood as the heart of the joy that overflowed through everyone there, and though the battered, cramped homes and shops remained a painful reminder at the edges of it all, it was easy to overlook it as she traversed their dirt streets.

Ashiel loved the alienage. Not for how it was, physically- it was a hovel of a place, filled with the aches and sorrows of decades of people being oppressed. No, she loved the people. Loved them to the point of fury when they were targeted. They were family, all of them, even those not bound by blood. It was how it had always been, how it would always be. 

Some were overflowing with joy- _“Your mother wanted you more than anything.” “She would be so proud of you!” “You look just like her.”_ \- while others simply seemed bitter. _“We all thought your father would never be able to find you a match.”_ She took it in stride; this was going to be a good day. It had to be, for her father. For all that he had done to secure this match.

The elves of Denerim did not have the luxury of marrying for love. The majority of them fell into arranged marriages, and this one was a one-of-a-kind match. Her betrothed, Nelaros, was the son of a blacksmith from Highever, and was traveling quite the distance to marry her. She would be a fool to squander it. No matter how she might snip at her father, she understood that this was the sort of thing that must have taken him months, or even years, to set up.

“Are you nervous?” Soris asked, peering through the scattered groups of elves. She laughed, shaking her head.

“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s strange- a month ago, I had no clue I’d be getting married.”

“Apparently, you have nothing to worry about.” She shot her cousin a curious look, slowing her pace a tad beside him. “ _Your_ betrothed is apparently quite the catch. Handsome, they say.”

“I’m sure yours is just as fine.”

“How do you know? She could be a mouse of a woman!” Ash barked a laugh and patted his arm.

“Calm yourself, cousin. It’ll be alright.” Her wandering gaze caught that of Nilwyn, a friend of her mother’s, and she offered her a small smile. Nilwyn and her husband had pinched and saved for years to give her a wedding gift of fifteen silver pieces- a sizable sum, by their standards. It did nothing to soothe the growing knots in her stomach, but she understood what it cost them, and she wouldn’t dare show a shred of discontent after such a gift.

“Hey, what’s going on over there…?” Soris rose to his tiptoes, a frown tugging at his lips. “Oh, no. Ash-”

Ashiel was already moving. There was a grumble of irritation from her red-headed cousin, but it wouldn’t stop her- she could already see three noblemen inserting themselves into a small crowd of elves. As she drew closer, she could catch snippets of conversation:

“Please, milord! This is a celebration!”

“Oh, shut it, knife ear. We’re here to have some fun, too. And you wouldn’t deny us that, would you?” A dark-edged laugh rolled from the shem speaking as he dragged his eyes over the women. They came to rest on Ashiel as she stepped forward. “Well… what have we here? Another one come to have a bit of fun?”

“Try it, human, and I’ll cut your bloody hands off,” Ash growled, fingers curling to fists.

“Now, listen here, you filthy-” 

Even as he spoke, Shianni had slipped away, and before he could finish his threat, she was smashing a pot over his head. The nobleman crumpled to the ground, unconscious, and his friends cried out in rage.

“D’you know who that is?” one snapped. “That’s the son of the Arl of Denerim!” Ashiel’s lips curled to bare her teeth in a silent snarl as she jabbed a finger towards him.

“Then imagine what we’ll do to you, you idiotic, ugly shem!”

“This’ll go bad for you,” he hissed as the two of them lifted the fallen human. “Just you wait!”

“Bastards,” Ash growled under her breath, shaking her head; Shianni buried her face in her hands and groaned, but Ash only shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, Shianni. They won’t dare do anything. They’d have to admit they got bludgeoned by a tiny elven woman.”

“And we all know no human would do that.” The new voice came from behind Ashiel and Soris; they turned, and two unfamiliar elves stood before them. The man who had spoken smiled. He was tall for an elf- taller than Ash, to be sure- with a shock of carefully disheveled blond hair and eyes so pale a blue they nearly looked grey. “That was a mess, if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Is everyone okay?” the woman next to him asked, concern lining her delicate features. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No.” Soris breathed a sigh of weariness. “That’s…. fairly normal for us, actually.”

“We know how to handle it,” Ash put in with a dismissive wave, noting how the blond elf was studying her.

“Maker. You’d not see nobility acting that way in Highever.” His smile went strained for a moment, but then warmed. “Is it too much to hope that you are Ashiel Tabris, milady?”

 _Too much to hope?_ Blinking, she gave a slow nod- his smile only grew. “Then you are my intended. My name is Nelaros.”

“Oh.” That took a moment to process. “Ah… Soris and Shianni said that you had arrived early. We were on our way to meet you.”

“And here we are.” Nelaros chuckled, a warm sound that curled through Ash’s chest. “Are you nervous?”

“Perhaps a bit,” she admitted. “You’re still a stranger, if a handsome one. You could be an absolute brute.”

“Cousin!” Soris chided her, but Nelaros only laughed again.

“I promise you, Ashiel, I’ll spend every waking moment learning to make you happy.” A faint blush crept into Ashiel’s cheeks, and she averted her gaze with a nervous cough.

“Soris, we should let them get ready.” A side glance to Nelaros- he was still watching her, expression shockingly fond, and the heat in her cheeks only worsened. Ash hooked an arm through Soris’. “Now. We’ll see you at the- at the ceremony!” With that, she jerked her cousin along with her and made a quick exit. 

“So?”

“So what?” Ash snipped. 

“So… what do you think?”

“Your bride looks like a delicate little mouse.”

“Cousin!” The admonishment loosened the knots in her chest, and Ash laughed, shaking her head. “I think she’s beautiful. If a bit...”

“Mouse-ish.”

“I hate you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Ashiel sighed, tossing a sideways look to Soris. “What do you think… of Nelaros?”

“I think…” She shrugged. “I think that he seems very sweet.”

“And?”

“And I think that Papa chose well.”

“But…?”

“But…” Another sigh. “He may see me in a better light than he should.” Soris elbowed her in the side and made a face.

“You give yourself too little credit, cousin.”

“If you say so.”

A frown creased Ashiel’s brow as she tugged at Soris’ tunic, smoothing out wrinkles and brushing away bits of dust and dirt. It was easier, to focus on him. Easier than focusing on herself, and all the supposed downfalls that those of a more bitter inclination saw in her. Her mind wandered time and again back to the handsome elf that she’d be marrying, but she absolutely refused to let herself linger. If she got too nervous, then this wouldn’t go smoothly. And besides-

She paused, blinking, and nudged Soris to the side, despite his confused protest. _There_. There was a human man standing not far from the gates, heavily armed and armored and staring directly at her. Her frown deepened as she stepped around Soris. “Hey, what’re you-”

“We have more trouble,” she mumbled, and would offer no more explanation as she strode over to the dark-skinned man. “You do not belong here, human.” The man arched a brow at her, his expression bordering on amused, and it only served to irritate her further. “We are having a celebration today. You have no place here.”

“I apologize,” he murmured, the words gentle but firm. “I came here seeking something- though it seems I have already found it.”

“Then leave.”

“I am afraid I cannot do that.” 

Though she was far from imposing in all of her four-foot-ten stature, still, Ashiel drew herself to her full height to glower at the stranger. He seemed unbothered- did not even move to rest a hand on one of the multitude of weapons he carried.

“I insist. You humans have already tried to ruin today once.”

“Oh? But I do believe I only just arrived.”

“I will ask you only once more. Leave.”

“And I say again that I simply cannot.”

Ashiel opened her mouth, but Soris laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly in a silent plea that she not start a fight. Jaw tight, she forced a sigh.

“Then perhaps we can come to some sort of compromise, but-”

“Duncan?” The three of them all turned to find Elder Valendrian approaching; he gave a warm, wary smile to the human before nodding to Ash and Soris. 

“Valendrian. How good to see you again. Do you see how she stays her temper, even in the face of my contesting leaving?”

“Aye, I do.” Valendrian’s smile eased into something more proud than tired. “And I think the world could do with more who know when to fight with words instead of blades. You’ve caught us at an odd time.”

“Elder,” Ash interjected, “you know this human?”

“Ah. I forget, you were far too young to remember- Ashiel, Soris, this is Duncan, the leader of the Fereldan Grey Wardens. Duncan, this is Soris, and this is Ashiel. Ashiel is-”

“The daughter of Adaia Tabris. Yes, I can see that.” Ash’s gaze snapped to Duncan, sharp as a dagger. “She resembles her mother greatly.” Duncan was watching her closely; it almost seemed he was sizing her up. Did he want a fight? He would get one, if that was the case. She had no qualms about brawling with humans, even those much better armed than she. It was something she had inherited from her mother.

One of many things, it seemed.

But when she met his gaze, he smiled, a secretive smile that made no effort to hide that there was much he wanted to say. 

She sort of wanted to punch him for that smile.

“Ah, yes. The two of them are getting married today. It’s quite the event- two weddings in a single day! Surely, you understand.” 

“What’s a Grey Warden doing here in the alienage?” Ashiel asked, words sharp. “You don’t look to be as much of an idiot as most shem. Surely you understand that we aren’t exactly an army in the making. The nobles make sure of that.”

“Cousin…”

“No,” and she shook her head, “no, I want to hear this. He walks in, over-armed, clad in shining armor, acting as though he belongs-”

“Da’len,” Valendrian cut in, and the use of the elven word caught her entirely off-guard. His tone was stern, no-nonsense, and firmer than her father ever used with her. Ears dropping in admonishment, she averted her gaze. “Duncan is a good man. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course, Elder.”

“Trust, then, that he is not like most humans. He knows how to see talent and promise in anyone. He also knows that it can be found in the most unlikely of places.” Ashiel narrowed her eyes at Duncan, who chuckled softly.

“I appreciate your Elder’s words; still, I have no qualms answering your questions. Many years ago, I wanted to recruit your mother. Valendrian dissuaded me- but with the darkspawn threat as it is now, I came here in the hopes of finding that same spark of hope and ferocity I had seen in her… in her child. After all, when I was last here, you stole one of my daggers and brazenly tried to scare me away from speaking to your Elder.”

Ashiel found herself struck silent, eyes widening. She had done that? As a mere child? She truly was bold in her youth- as bold as she was now. Her eyes dropped to his daggers, and he laughed in truth this time, shaking his head. “I wished to recruit you, if I am to be honest. But I dare not interrupt your wedding. If you are so inclined, we may discuss this afterward? But please- do not let me keep you from your future spouse.”

Ashiel frowned and took a moment- join the Grey Wardens? Did they allow elves in their ranks? How could he possibly offer this to her when he hardly knew her? She finally opened her mouth to speak, but was met with Valendrian holding up a hand.

“Later, child. For now, it is time for the ceremony. I promise you, Warden-Commander Duncan is more than stubborn enough to wait until all is said and done.”

* * *

“Friends and family,” called out Valendrian from where he stood on the platform, “today, we celebrate not only this joining- but also the bonds of kin and kind. We are a free people, though that was not always so. Andraste, the Maker’s prophet, freed us from the bonds of slavery.”

With the Revered Mother between them, Ashiel stood across from Soris; beside him was his bride, Valora, and beside Ashiel was Nelaros. As the Elder spoke, Nelaros hooked his pinky with hers and offered her a small smile- more than enough to make her stomach twist. This was the man she would be spending her life with. This was the man she would have a family with. This was the man who she would face life with.

Maker have mercy, she felt like she was going to be sick from the nerves.

“As our community grows, remember that our strength lies in commitment to tradition and to each other.” As he finished, Mother Boann stepped forward and turned to face the two couples; her smile, as always, was kindly, genuine. If ever there was a human that Ashiel truly enjoyed, it would be her. 

“Thank you, Valendrian,” she said. “Now, let us begin. In the name of the Maker, who brought us into this world, and in whose name we say the Chant of Light, I-” As the color drained from Soris’ face, the Mother turned in confusion towards the crowd. At the back, pushing their way through, were the three noblemen from before- and they looked somewhere between manic and furious. “Milord! This is- ah- an unexpected… surprise?”

“Sorry to interrupt, Mother.” It was the son of the Arl who spoke; in that moment, Ashiel remembered his name. Vaughn Kendells, son of Arl Urien of Denerim. Bastard, if there ever was one. A group of guardsmen trailed after the noblemen- not city guard, clearly. The emblem on their shields marked them as guards of the Arl’s estate. Wonderful. “I’m having a party and we’re dreadfully short of female guests.” He laughed as he half-hopped onto the platform, shouldering his way past the Revered Mother.

“Milord, this is a wedding!” 

“If you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties, that’s your business. But don’t pretend this is a proper wedding,” he sneered, circling the two couples like a predator readying to pounce. He shoved Valora towards one of his brutish friends; she yelped as the other man grabbed her with a grin. “Now, we’re here for a good time, aren’t we, boys?”

One of the other men had crept around to grab two of the bridesmaids, and he cackled. 

“Just a good time with the ladies, that’s all!”

“Let’s take…” Vaughn paused, humming under his breath, and then began pointing, “those two, the one in the tight dress, and…. Where’s the bitch that bottled me?”

“Right here!” another man called out, snatching Shianni’s arms and pinning them behind her back as she began to struggle.

“Let me go, you stuffed-shirt son-of-a-”

“Oh, I’ll enjoy taming her,” Vaughn murmured with a wicked grin. His eyes shifted, fell on Ash- Ash, who was absolutely shaking with rage, digging her nails into her palms and drawing blood merely to keep from absolutely losing herself and attacking. “And look at the pretty bride…”

“Don’t worry,” Nelaros interjected. “I won’t let them take you.”

“I can’t let them take them!” she snapped, taking a step forward. “Let them go, you bastard!”

“Ah, what a well-formed little thing.” He stepped forward with a low laugh. “Now, now… we’re going to want to, ah… avoid any more unpleasantness, yes?”

“Take me.” Ashiel’s voice was shaking. “Take me, and let them go. You want payback for earlier? Fine. Then _take me_.” Another laugh from Vaughn, curved, wicked, cruel.

“Oh, darling. You _wish._ ” 

And before Ashiel had a chance to act on her impulse to tackle him to the ground, she realized, too late, that one of them had snuck up behind her- too late, because the realization only came when she felt something hard connect with the back of her skull and the world went entirely black.

* * *

She woke to a sharp ache in her skull, the gentle backdrop of choked sobs, and the acrid taste of unspent fury laid upon her tongue. Even as Ash’s eyes fluttered open, she heard a gasp, and felt more than saw her cousin rushing to her side. “You’re alright,” Shianni murmured, voice strained. “Thank the Maker. I didn’t know if you would wake up.”

_“Maker keep us, Maker protect us, Maker keep us, Maker protect us…”_

Ash groaned, a hand coming to her forehead to attempt to ward off the awful headache that lingered from being knocked out. “All right,” she growled, forcing herself to sit up. “That human dies.”

“Glad to see you’ve still got some fight in you,” Shianni said with a strained laugh. To her right was Velora, and to her left, Reyla. Nola was a few paces behind them, kneeling as she repeated her prayers over and over in a desperate whisper. Velora was the next to speak, somewhere between shock and disgust.

“They locked us in here to wait until that…. _bastard_ is ‘ready for us’.”

Huh. Not so much of a mouse as she seemed. 

“Then we need to get out of here!”

“Forgive me if I don’t hold my breath,” cut in Reyla. “The door is locked solid, and we’re unarmed!” Brushing her hair back from her face, Ash cut the other woman a sharp stare before dragging herself to her feet.

“Unarmed doesn’t mean helpless, Nola.”

“Look, we’ll do what they want-”

( _“Maker’s balls, Nola, cut that out!”_

_“Maker keep us, Maker protect us-”)_

“-go home, and try to forget this ever happened.”

“She’s right.” Velora’s agreement had Ash narrowing her eyes. _I take that back. Mouse it is._ “It’ll be worse if we resist.”

“Worse for them, maybe,” Ash countered. “We can’t just lay down and take this! You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“It’ll be worse if we don’t,” Shianni agreed. Before she could continue, Velora gasped, her ears shifting to lay flat against her skull.

“Shhh! Someone’s coming!”

And with that alert, it was easy to hear the clink of armor and the sound of rustling keys just outside of the door; every muscle in Ashiel’s body went tense as she cast about for something to use, but the room was fairly well barren. _Damnit!_ Right. She just had to find a way to get in a few good hits and they could knock the bastards out and take their weapons. Easy enough, in concept. She’d disarmed her mother more than a few times in her youth, as well as some troublemaking shem over the years.

But when the door opened, it wasn’t just one or two guards- it was six.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

Ash’s internal panic was mirrored on the faces of the four elven women held captive with her, and it only got worse as she realized they were all in full armor. Taking no chances, apparently. 

“Hello, wenches,” the man at the forefront purred. “We’re here to escort you to Lord Vaughn’s little party.”

“Stay away from us!” Nola’s cry was paired with her stumbling to her feet, and just like that, there was the flash of a blade and blood flew everywhere as she crumpled, motionless, back to the ground.

If she’d thought she couldn’t get angrier, she was wrong. Ash dug her nails into her palms and grit her teeth so hard her jaw almost immediately began to ache. 

“Y-you- you killed her!” Kneeling, Reyla tried to brush away some of the blood, whimpering as she was given only crimson-stained fingers and the sounds of Nola choking on her own blood.

“S’pose that’s what happens when you try to teach whores some respect,” the guard countered. “Now. Go grab the flower hiding in the corner. Horace and I’ll take the homely bride and the drunk. You two- bind the last one. She’s the scrapper.”

The first two dove for Reyla, dragging her up from the floor, whilst the second two grabbed Velora and Shianni and dragged them out after Reyla. Cursing under her breath, Ash backed up further, eyeing the two men left to handle her. As the door clicked shut solidly behind the other guards, she made note that she didn’t hear a lock- her eyes never strayed from the remaining guards, but that was good to know. Maybe if she was quick enough… but they stood in her path, blocking it with their bulk.

“You really wanna dance, shem?” she hissed, baring her teeth. The first chuckled under his breath.

“It’s a dance you won’t come out of looking very nice, whore. I would just be nice and quiet if I were you. Let’s not make this more difficult than it has to be.” He grinned. “Don’t worry, we’ll be perfect gentlemen.”

“You heard the captain,” the second interjected. “Be good, or you’ll end up like your friend there.”

“Try it and see what parts I bite off,” she snapped. They laughed.

“Horace was right, she’s a-” He broke off as the door opened again, glancing back to see something that they blocked from her view. “Oi, what the fuck?”

“Uhhhh.”

Wait. She knew that voice. It couldn’t be. Soris?! He had less of a spine than a pile of mud! What was he doing here?!

“‘Ey, where’d you get that-” Something clattered and scrapped ominously against the floor- right between the guards’ legs to rest at Ashiel’s feet.

A sword. 

She could now catch a glimpse of Soris beyond the guards, but she wasted no time looking, instead snatching up the sword and spinning it expertly in a hand. 

The guards looked from the blade, to her, and then they cursed, taking a step back.

_“Oh, fuck.”_

It was all they could manage before she lunged for them.

What followed was nothing like her normal fancy footwork. She might be light on her feet, but for this, she was brutal. Her wedding dress was soaked through with blood, it clung to her hair, her skin- by the time the guards were in a bloodied heap on the floor, she was out of breath and wild-eyed, searching around for her next target and finding only Soris. He was kneeling beside Nola, face paler than usual.

“I can’t believe they killed her.” His voice was scarce more than a horrified rasp. “Are-” Soris turned to look up at her before stumbling to his feet and reaching for her. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” and it came out sharp-edged, moreso than she intended. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she repeated herself, gentler this time, “I’m… fine.”

“Thank the Maker. Hopefully we can still save the others.”

Just like that, Ashiel’s eyes flashed open once more, her grip on the sword tightening. It was enough to bring a question to mind- because Soris was no fighter.

“Where did you get this sword, Soris?” she asked, edging to the door to peer out into the hallway. There was no use in wasting time while they spoke.

“That Grey Warden- uh, Duncan, wasn’t it?- he gave it to me. Well, gave Nelaros and I his crossbow and sword. He said that was all he could do.”

Startled, she looked back to her cousin.

“...Nelaros is here?”

“Of course! He’s the one who said we had to go after you!” Soris sighed, looking ashamed. “Everyone else was too afraid. But… when he said he was going, I couldn’t let him go alone. Ash, I-”

“I know you’re not a man of particular martial bravery, cousin. No apologies needed. I’m only glad you came through.” Ashiel gave him a tight smile. “Now. Where is he?”

“Guarding the end of the hall.”

“Then let’s go meet up with him and get the others out of here.”

* * *

It took less time than expected to make their way through to the hall in question. Cutting through the guards, looting more weapons from their bodies- by the time they’d reached it, Soris was hastily putting on the last of his scavenged armor and Ashiel was still in her bloody mess of a dress, boasting two daggers and a longbow as opposed to the sword from before. The Grey Warden’s sword was in Soris’ hands- not that he’d done any of the fighting.

Ashiel loved her cousin, but he had the worst habit of freezing up. Lucky for the both of them, she was a fierce fighter when properly equipped, and she had her fury to drive her through the pain. Besides, from what Soris had told her along the way, Nelaros was a ferocious fighter, so having him along-

As they turned the corner, a fractured gasp broke free from her throat at the sight that greeted them- Nelaros, surrounded by guards.

His head snapped around, and panic twisted his features.

“Ash-”

They were not yet familiar enough with each other for him to use her nickname, but her name was not cut short for that purpose- no, it was cut short as it broke into a choked noise, accompanied by the sword driven straight into his back and through his chest. Even from this distance, she could see the light fading from his eyes.

“See?” one guard said, “I told you there’d be mo-”

He had no time to finish what he was saying as Ashiel let forth a primal screech and threw herself at the guards. They weren’t expecting her to react so quickly or so violently- as they scrambled to fight back, she dipped and dodged with the speed of a beast possessed, her daggers finding purchase in soft necks and gaps in their armor. 

It was only when the last of them dropped that her daggers followed suit, clattering to the ground as she half-slid over the blood-slick floor to kneel at Nelaros’ side.

It was too late, of course. Her desperate scramble to stop the bleeding quickly turned to her simply gathering him in her arms and burying her face in his neck.

He barely knew her, and he’d risked his life for her. Lost his life for her. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, clinging to his still form. “Maker, I’m so, so sorry.”

As much as she wanted to grieve- and it was more and more tempting by the moment- she knew she could not. Gently, she laid him back on the floor, reaching to scrub at her wet eyes and pausing only when something tumbled from his pocket and into the blood surrounding him. 

A ring?

Brow furrowed, sniffling, Ash picked it up to examine it. _For my wildfire of a wife,_ was etched upon the inside of the band. Confused, she looked up to find Soris watching her.

“He… he told me,” he said quietly, “on the way in here. His family wanted him to reconsider. They’d heard about an incident where you’d gotten into a fight with some guards and he told me that hearing about it is why he fought to keep the betrothal.”

“He knew I was a fighter?” Ashiel asked, stunned. He nodded.

“He did. You didn’t have anything to worry about- Ash, I’m-”

Curling her fingers around the band, she took a breath before doing her best to clean her hand of blood so that she could slide it on her finger and then rise to her feet once more. Another moment was taken to retrieve the daggers she’d stolen from the guards, and when she cut Soris off, it was with a look, not words.

There was true murder in her gaze.

“Let’s go. We’re not through here. Not by a long shot.”

* * *

It didn’t take Ash long to lose count of the guards she cut a bloody swath through. Somewhere around fifteen, the number simply stopped mattering. What mattered was that she killed every single one she came across. Complicit- all of them were complicit, and guilty, and they deserved this. Nobody was going to stop her from saving the others, and nobody would be alive to tell the tale of the ferocity she possessed, save for Soris. For his part, he didn’t seem eager either to risk accidentally getting in the way of her blades or to speak of how he had never seen his cousin in such a state.

When she, quite literally, kicked in the door to Vaughn’s room, she looked horrific- her wedding dress was tattered in places from the guards’ desperate attempts to take her down, soaked in their blood. Her hair was matted from just the same, and she, herself, had a wild, furious look in her eyes, more rabid than anything else.

Vaughn and his two noble friends stumbled back as she stalked into the room, and she took only a moment to register that Shianni was sobbing on the floor with her clothes half-torn off of her before she turned her murderous intent to Vaughn.

“My, my,” Vaughn began, voice shaking just a bit, “what have we-”

“I’m going to enjoy this,” she snarled, cutting him off entirely, and before he could respond, she threw herself at him with all of the fury and malice she’d kept close to her chest since waking up in this damned place. No- since realizing how shems treated her kind, years ago.

Three unarmored noblemen were nothing compared to the guards she’d already taken on. 

Ashiel made short work of them, but by the end, she was shaking, the severity of her wounds finally beginning to bleed through the anger, head swimming from it all.

“He’s- he’s dead-”

“Of course he’s fucking dead, Soris,” she snapped. “He’s a fucking monster. Do you even realize- no. Go. Find the others. Get them ready to go.” Unwilling to argue, he scrambled to the far wall of the room, struggling to open the door in his haste.

“Cousin?” Ash’s gaze swept to Shianni, and her expression softened. “D-don’t leave me alone- please- please, take me home… I want to go home….” 

It was heartwrenching, to see her brave, bold cousin reduced to these tears; Ashiel came to her side and knelt, gathering her into a hug.

“We’re going home. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

“You killed them, didn’t you? You killed them all.” Whether there was hope for an affirmative or not in those words was lost on Ashiel, but she nodded, nevertheless.

“Like dogs, Shianni.”

“Good…. Good.”

* * *

After a quiet conversation with the Elder, Ashiel found herself staring at her shaking hands. She almost didn’t notice the way the women ushered Shianni off, or how Soris placed a hand on her shoulder to give a comforting squeeze. Getting back out had been easy- everyone was dead.

Everyone.

She didn’t feel guilty, but she did feel the enormity of it all weighing down on her shoulders. She hurt, she was exhausted, she was dizzy from blood loss…. Her eyes caught the ring on her finger and filled with tears. She hadn’t been able to get _everyone_ out alive, and all of this, just because the shem saw them as nothing but tools and toys. 

“Ash,” came the Elder’s voice, gentle. It was the way he spoke to her when she was young, daydreaming, and had missed what he’d said. Blinking, she lifted her gaze to him. “Tell me what happened,” he murmured, brow creased with worry.

“I…”

“Ash, please. The amount of blood-”

“It’s mostly human blood,” Soris interjected. “But we’re okay.” Valendrian’s brow furrowed further.

“That is my concern.”

“I killed them all,” Ashiel finally said, the words hard. “The guards, Vaughn, all of them. Every last one. And before you lecture me-”

“I’m not…” Valendrian sighed. “I have no intention of lecturing you. You likely prevented something even worse from occurring, and you were only protecting your family. But you have to understand that the garrison must be on their way.”

“Then you have little time.” She wasn’t sure when Duncan had arrived, but the shem’s words had her shooting him a narrow-eyed glare. Holding it for just a moment, she returned her attention to her Elder.

“We may have to leave Denerim for a while. But it’ll be alright. I just need to say goodbye to my-”

“The guards are here!” called a distant voice, and the four of them turned almost immediately, the words dying in Ashiel’s throat.

They couldn’t take Soris. She refused to let them. If someone was to pay for this, so be it- it would be her. With that thought solidly in her mind, she squared her shoulders as the group of guards approached, lifting her chin high despite her exhaustion.

“Valendrian,” the one at the forefront began, frowning at the Elder.

“Captain. I take it you have come in response to today’s disruption.”

“Don’t play ignorant with me, Valendrian,” he snapped. “You will not prevent justice from being done.” His eyes cut to Ashiel and Soris- Soris, who still looked shell-shocked, and Ashiel, covered in blood and injuries. “The Arl’s son lies dead in a river of blood that flows through the entire palace! I need answers, and I need them now!”

“It was me,” Ashiel said, stepping forward before anyone else had a chance to speak. The captain’s frown grew in severity.

“You expect me to believe one woman did all of that?”

“We are not all so helpless, Captain.” Valendrian’s words were grave with meaning. The old guardsman gave a harrumph and shook his head before refocusing on Ash.

“You have saved many by coming forward. I don’t envy your fate, but I do applaud your courage.” Turning to the rest of the group, he continued, “This elf will wait in the dungeons until the Arl returns. The rest of you, back to your houses!”

She had left the daggers at the Arl’s estate. Damn it all. Then again, if she fought now, it would just bring the punishment down on the Alienage… turning, Ashiel gave her Elder and her cousin a weak smile. Soris looked absolutely stricken.

“Cousin…”

“It’s alright, Soris. I know what I did. I’ll face whatever comes. You just have to take care of everyone while I’m gone.”

“While this is very heartwarming,” interrupted the captain, “I need you to give me your hands.”

“Captain.” This interruption came from the Grey Warden himself. “A word, if you please.” Immediate suspicion flooded the captain’s lined features, and Ash found her own expression mirroring his. _What in Thedas does he want?_

“What is it, Grey Warden? The situation is under control.”

“Be that as it may,” Duncan replied, almost lazily, “I hereby invoke the Grey Warden’s Right of Conscription. I will be removing this woman into my custody immediately.”

Her own reaction was one of shock and it took even her off-guard- Ashiel barked out a laugh.

“Hear that? You can’t touch me!” And just like that, the humor was gone. “Wait. Into your…?”

“Son of a tied-down- Very well, Grey Warden, I cannot challenge your rights, but this elf must be out of Denerim _today_.” 

“Agreed.” Duncan nodded.

“Now I need to get my men on the streets before the news hits. Move out!” With a huff, the captain turned back to his men and motioned for them to follow him back out through the Alienage gates. And while normally, Ash would have watched them leave, she instead found herself staring Duncan down defiantly.

“You don’t even help save my family, but you expect me to leave with you?” He sighed at her accusatory tone.

“Due to the Lord’s involvement, it was a political matter. Grey Wardens are forbidden from interfering in political matters. As it stands, our weight in Ferelden is tenuous as is. We need not give them a reason to exile us again.” His mouth twisted into a grim line, and he shook his head. “I also knew that you could handle it, just as your mother could have.”

Torn between her pride and her suspicion, she settled for offering him a severe frown. Undeterred, he continued, “You will be a part of the Grey Wardens now. This absolves you of all former crimes and gives you a chance to fight to keep Ferelden- and your home here- safe from the threat of Darkspawn. Correct me if I’m wrong, but that does seem like something you’d want.”

There was a long pause between the two of them, both Soris and the Elder unwilling to break it. Finally, Ash thrust a hand out to Duncan, who eyed it curiously.

“You’re perceptive, for a shem.” Her grin was dagger-sharp and a poor mask for how much it truly hurt her to think of leaving her home and family behind. “You win. I’ll join your Wardens, but I want to say goodbye first.” His large hand enveloped hers in a warm handshake, and he offered her a gentle smile.

“Of course. I would never deny you that much.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you _try._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> And that's it for chapter one! I don't even want to think about how long it took me to write this chapter. Anyway, this is my first-ever posted fic (as opposed to the drabbles I write on tumblr) that I've dedicated myself to. Please, feel free to leave me a comment or even hit me up on tumblr (sirgansey) if you wanna talk about this fic! I love hearing feedback!


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